


a fire that eats, but does not drink

by FortinbrasFTW



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: F/F, post-gaul's defeat, suraya holding defenses in the city as Ikora gets her light back
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:07:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27597293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FortinbrasFTW/pseuds/FortinbrasFTW
Summary: Suraya Hawthorne had never been one to fall easily into Wonder. She didn't gawk when ghosts raised the dead, she didn't stare when guardians knitted fire and lightning and burnt nothing between their fingers. She met their eyes firm and constant when they - not all, but more than few - looked down at her like she was something that was simplyless.Suraya Hawthorne didn't believe in angels.
Relationships: Ikora Rey/Suraya Hawthorne
Comments: 6
Kudos: 14





	a fire that eats, but does not drink

Suraya Hawthorne had never been one to fall easily into Wonder. She didn't gawk when ghosts raised the dead, she didn't stare when guardians knitted fire and lightning and burnt nothing between their fingers. She met their eyes firm and constant when they - not all, but more than few - looked down at her like she was something that was simply _less_. 

Suraya Hawthorne didn't believe in angels.

Eva had told her about angels when she was young, maybe not even seven or eight. Marc had been irritated when he learned of it, but Suraya had talked him down; it was just stories, things old ladies believed in, no harm in it. What she never told him was what Eva had told her that day had made her more frightened than anything else.

An old woman who smelled like fresh bread and orange trees, her crinkly eyes, glittering like something hidden under water. She'd given her a cup of thick green tea, just like she always did. Suraya could still feel the grit of it on her tongue, her small feet swinging under the bench she sat on. 

"Everyone should know about angels," the smooth voice cascaded around her as Eva folded yards of fabric (silk, leather, linen), tidied neat loops of thread (scarlet, ochre, cream).

"I know about angels," she'd said, young voice clear and confident.

"Do you? Tell me then little Suraya, tell me about angels."

"They're like, protectors. Beautiful I guess. They take care of people, work for God or something."

Eva smiled, amused (now, all these years later, maybe a little wicked, Suraya thinks).

"Sounds much like our guardians, doesn't it Conejito?" 

Suraya rolled her eyes. "They're not all _that_ beautiful."

She heard Eva laugh so clearly, like fingers on an empty glass. "Let me tell you a secret about angels," she turned to face her, countenance dark with the easy sunlight at her back. Her eyes still glittered. "There are some things so beautiful that they cannot help but be terrible."

Her fingers pulled a thin line of bright purple thread between them, cutting brilliant before her shadowed body. 

"There are old stories, forgotten tales, and these things spoke of angels. They were protectors, yes. They were holy things. But they were Terrible. Dozens of eyes and hundreds of wings; an infinity of folded secrets... At least that's what they said. But I do not know," she chuckled almost talking to herself by now. The thread pulled in a tight loop around one finger, turning it white at the tip. "That may just be how you try to explain something that's too beautiful to see. A true wonder." 

Suraya frowned. "I don't understand."

"Not everything is supposed to be understood. You should warm to that idea little one."

She put down her tea. "That's stupid."

She thinks Eva had laughed; she thinks she'd told her she was a rude little girl. She thinks she asked her if she would come back for tea tomorrow. 

Suraya Hawthorne didn't believe in angels.

Dust catches in her throat as her back hits the tiled wall. Half of the building has already fallen down around them. She'd probably hear the cries if all sound hadn't been blown out by the Centurion that hit their position like a sentient meteor. The angles of the rifle still fit familiar in her hand: wood on cloth, metal on meat. She focuses on that. 

The smoke was getting worse now that the fight was overwhelming them on all fronts. Grit clung to the air eager and frantic, dull lights of the city pressing close between it. The Centurion was lifting off the ground again to see clearer, tiny eyes snapping to any and all remaining offenders. There were more coming. More, and more, and more.

Suraya breathed through her teeth, finding ammo under the folds of her poncho. She snapped the cartridge. In, twist, back. Her hands were surprisingly steady. The tiles of the cafe, restaurant, bar, whatever it had been under her feet where white and blue, pretty twirls of pattern pocketed by rubble. 

She snapped the rifle to her shoulder and ate the kick-back easily. The Centurions' shield shuddered. The small eyes swiveled to her, the canon came a second later. Too slow.

It's body crashed to the earth as her shot bucked into her shoulder. 

She gasped, voice still nothing to her blown-out ears. The gloam of psion eyes glinted from the rooftop across, the fallen arches in the park: second story to her left...

Suraya threw herself to the side just in time. Her back slammed to the opposite of the ruined concrete as six more shots crackled from where she had just been. She blinked, tasting bitter on the back of her tongue. Her shoulder wouldn't move the way she wanted it to. Her poncho felt wet.

_"Patience is poultice."_ She heard Devrim's tired smile, even here.

She took a breath. Then another. She opened her eyes. There were fingers next to her foot. They were curled just slightly, the rest lost under rubble. She thought Eva's fingers, twisting a bright slice of string.

She made her dead arm snap the rifle into her good shoulder. The psion on the opposite roof was easiest. The one by the square harder. Both fell. Her back hit the concrete again. She could hear again, at least enough. Not that it did her any favors. There wasn't anything good to listen to.

She felt the Colossus land before she saw it. The wall at her back shuddered. The rubble crumbled around her even further. She dropped low as her cover was halved from the Cabal's sheer weight landing ten meters away. Psion shots shivered past, startling the darkness with scarlet. 

The Centurion took one step, then another. Each one rocked her, teeth sinking into her wound with every vibration. She closed her eyes. 

Marc reached down to her, light dappled from the forest cover. _"Fall seven times, Suraya, stand up eight."_

She turned the corner. She aimed. And the world went violet.

Everything slowed. It might have been her, might have been the blood loss. It might not have been. 

The Colossus screamed. He must have, even if it didn't make a sound. The Nova enveloped him, but when he burned, he burned from the inside out. 

_Close your eyes!_ Something within her screamed. But she wouldn't. She couldn't. 

Ikora Rae spun in against a scarred sky. She twisted nothing around her like sinew, ribbons, curling and lacing and unleashing. The psions burst into pockets of scrambling infinity, sucked into nothing. The Colossus crumbled as darts of violet scattered, lacing the air like swallows over a summer field. Sound evaporated, humming under Suraya's skin as every hair on her arms stood on end. 

_Close your eyes!_ But how could she?

Ikora Rae was smiling, and Suraya Hawthorne didn't believe in angels.

Eva shook her head with a laugh. The grassy tang of the tea clung to Suraya's tongue. 

Suraya stared. She held her breath like a stolen thing. 

" _Not everything is supposed to be understood."_

She wanted to understand. No... understand was the wrong word. Know. She wanted to _know._

Ikora poured like an antithesis of dawn. She laughed. Pure, transcendent. Even as the world shattered under her gaze. 

_"Terrible."_

She was terrible. She was beautiful. And Suraya wanted to swallow it whole. She wanted it to fill her throat and pour down the corners of her lips. She wanted to hold her laugh in her hands. She wanted to graze her cheek against the impossible.

Wonder. She wanted to let herself drown in Wonder.

It might have been half a moment before the violet flames scattered into nothing. It might have been an hour. Ikora Rae landed. Booted feet just touching the ground before taking her easy weight. Suraya could swear the world pulsed around her. Ikora looked at Suraya, and her smile grew.

Maybe somethings were worth the wonder.


End file.
